Let it Glow
by WorldsWorthWords
Summary: As Frollo contemplates the choices he's making and the path he's on, he performs his own dark version of of a certain ice princess's famous song. Rated T for some mildly dark and mature thoughts.


**[Author's Note: I do not own Disney's _Hunchback of Notre Dame_ nor do I own _Frozen_ or any of its soundtrack. And to whom it may concern, I also apologize for my scandalous lack of activity lately. Reviews will be appreciated and lavishly thanked for.]**

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 **** ** _~~~Let it Glow~~~~_**

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The bell tower of Notre Dame jutted up from Paris like a charred branch from a burning log. The city was in flames, the houses of peasants burning and smoke pouring up to seal the sky. The air smelled of roasted things.

Judge Claude Frollo ascended the tower steps.

Things were progressing just as he had planned. Quasimodo had left the tower, no doubt to warn Esmerelda and the other gypsies of Frollo's imminent attack, oblivious to the fact that he was leading Frollo to the gypsies' hiding place. Frollo's spies were trailing him and the treacherous Captain Phoebus even now. All that was to be done now was to wait. He would soon know the location of the so-called Court of Miracles, the gypsies would soon be purged …and Esmerelda would soon be his.

Esmerelda. The very thought of her was like a perpetually-burning coal lodged deep inside Frollo. Memories of her flowing hair, her dark but soft flesh, and her fiercely voluptuous form haunted him at all hours. The desires to eat, sleep, or pray had faded, almost vanished, replaced by the consuming desire for the gypsy witch.

He had to find her. He'd burned all Paris in search of her, and now that she was almost in his hands he could do nothing but wait. It was maddening, and only fanned the fire within him ever higher. He would find her, and she would have to make the choice: submit to him or be burned. She would satisfy the lust she had cursed Frollo with, or she would die and stop the temptations. Frollo's placated desire for her would become his vengeance, or Esmerelda's death would become his peace of mind ( _surely_ it would bring peace of mind). Frollo wasn't sure which he wanted more.

He reached the top of the stairs and turned to look out of the tower, the bells above him and the entire burning city below. Not so long ago, Frollo wouldn't have even considered torching all of Paris in his quest to wipe out the gypsies, but now… now his search for Esmerelda had cast things in a new light for him. If finding her, and bringing all of her repulsive kind to justice, required flames, then so be it. It was a price he was willing to pay. The smoldering glow engulfing everything in sight was a testament to Frollo's will ultimately triumphing.

And yet… he was in Notre Dame. The statues of saints and angels pervading the cathedral wouldn't leave his mind, their marble faces accusatory and judgmental. He told himself that such thoughts were wrong and unnecessary. He was the Right Hand of God in France, surely he was above guilt and condemnation. Surely.

And yet, as gazed upon the city he had set aflame, the doubts persisted.

Almost as if in a trance, Frollo began to murmur to himself.

" _The fires glow bright in the city tonight,_

 _The girl's nowhere to be seen."_

Frollo took a deep, shuddering breath.

" _Am I close to dark damnation?_

 _Closer than I've ever been._

 _The flames are roaring like the smoldering blaze inside…_

 _Couldn't keep it in, Heaven knows I've tried."_

Frollo's thoughts were sharply interrupted by a pounding on the door at the bottom of the tower steps. A voice flew up to Frollo's ears. It was the archdeacon.

" _Frollo? Frollo!_ The brethren have come together, we will be ignored no longer! We refuse to let you stay in the tower of this sacred house while your men burn the city around it by your orders! _Frollo!_ Are you listening?"

There were more struggling sounds as the archdeacon and his monks attempted to open the door. It was futile. Frollo had barred it. Nevertheless, he whirled around to see the stairs as an irrational sort of panic gripped him.

" _Don't let them in,_

 _Don't let them see._

 _Be the pure man_

 _You always have to be._

 _Conceal, don't feel,_

 _Don't let them know…"_

He turned back to once again face the city full of fires that he had created, and said, in a deathly whisper,

" _Well, now they know."_

He stepped back, feeling oddly more confident and powerful. A small grin even spread across his face.

" _Let it glow!_

 _Let it glow!_

 _Cannot hold it back anymore!_

 _Let it glow!_

 _Let it glow!_

 _Turn away and slam the door!"_

He pointed contemptuously down the stairs at the pounding door.

" _I don't care_

 _What they have to say!_

 _Let the fires rage on…"_

Frollo's grin twisted wider in a humor only he saw.

"… _the heat never bothered me anyway."_

Turning back, he walked along the edge of the tower, causing Paris to appear to move before his eyes.

" _It's amusing how some distance_

 _Makes everything seems small."_

He cast a disdainful glance at the statues of saints and gargoyles that adorned the tower around him.

" _And the fears that once controlled me,_

 _Can't get to me at all."_

He held up his arms to the sky.

" _It's time to see what I can do!_

 _To test the limits and break through!_

 _No right, no wrong,_

 _No laws over me!_

 _I'm free!_

He let out a darkly delighted chuckle, the closest to a real laugh he'd ever gotten in his life.

 _Let it glow!_

 _Let it glow!_

 _Why, I feel I can reach_

 _The skies!_

 _Let it glow!_

 _Let it glow!_

 _I can hear the gypsies' cries!_

 _Here I stand_

 _And here I stay!_

 _Let the fires rage on!_

 _The heat never bothered me anyway."_

He turned, and stopped, transfixed. Before his eyes, he saw a heavenly light bathe a small statue of the Virgin Mary. Its eyes opened, and looked right at him. It opened its stone mouth and spoke, in a voice as soft and gentle as a breeze.

" _Frollo…_

 _Let her go,_

 _Let her go_

 _This path will only bring you pain._

 _Let her go,_

 _Let her go,_

 _Only yourself will you have slain."_

There was a great fiery blast. Beside the statue of Mary, one of the gargoyles roared to life and took on a hellish red hue, transforming into a demon. With an unearthly snarl it lunged at the Virgin Mary and devoured her in its twisted jaws. The sudden silence was sharp as a knife.

Frollo stood there, staring in horror as the gargoyle lumbered back to its place and became inanimate stone once again.

Then he realized. He had just received a vision. And he knew what it meant.

The tower door was flung outward with an almost inhuman force, so surprising the Archdeacon and other priests that they stumbled away. Frollo strode out and down the corridor, acting as if the priests weren't even there, an unholy triumphant smile on his face.

 _"If I have to,_

 _I'll burn Paris t to the ground!_

 _My soul is blazing high_

 _In burning pyres all around!_

 _And one thought reveals itself_

 _Like a fiery blast:_

 _I will never go back!_

 _The past is in the past!"_

He strode out of the cathedral and leapt onto his horse, galloping away to catch up with his spies and follow Quasimodo, personally, alight with brazen and dark passion. There would be no more anguish, no more guilt. Whatever he did, he did wholeheartedly. Esmerelda would surrender herself to him, or she would perish in the fire, as would the rest of the gypsy scum. Frollo rode his dark steed through the streets, a dark specter of judgment, but gleeful at the burden lifted off of his shoulders.

" _Let it glow,_

 _Let it glow!_

 _The girl will choose_

 _At the break of dawn!_

 _Let it glow,_

 _Let it glow!_

 _The perfect saint is gone!_

 _Here I ride_

 _To the light of day_

 _Let the fires rage on…"_

And the rest was drowned out, as nearby flames engulfed yet another Parisian building with a roar, and sent ever more smoke billowing up into the endless blackness above.


End file.
